


Paradise Lost

by keiliss



Series: Gifties: Christmas 2016 [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Happy Birthday, M/M, Surprises, desperate attempts, no dinner, pavillion of gold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:49:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/pseuds/keiliss
Summary: Oshun's request: OMG! What I really want is young Elrond/Erestor! Sorry! Anything would be lovely.Set not very long after the events inEven Quicker than Doubt





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oshun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oshun/gifts).



> I offered to write Christmas gifts this year, which were due on Christmas Day but most grew way past their expected (under 700 word) length so one a day till Twelfth Night works better.
> 
> Not one thing has turned out as planned this year, why did I expect this to? *g*

“Maybe just a nice dinner and a book. I don’t think he’d want you spending a lot of money on him.”

Elrond wrinkled his nose. “That’s boring, Glori. How would you like it if someone just gave you a book for your begetting day?”

Glorfindel looked surprised. “I would have felt it was thoughtful? Books are always good presents. Erestor likes reading, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, of course.” Elrond had no idea, he could vaguely recall a few books in Erestor’s room but they weren’t a central feature and he had never really thought to ask about them.

“Have you ever asked him?” Glorfindel asked, as though reading his mind.

Elrond glared at him. “That’s not the point,” he said firmly. “The point is trying to find him a present he’d really like without spending so much money he feels awkward. That is what you trying to say, isn’t it?”

“Well, giving him your rubies would be a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

“They look better on him than me.”

“I know, but they were your mother’s and come from Doriath, don’t they? And everyone would know where he got them. No, you need to find something more personal, something that looks like you put more effort into it than mentally rifling through your jewellery box and thinking oh all right, I don’t really need this.”

Elrond kept quiet. This was exactly what he had done.

\-----

Elrond had not known Erestor’s begetting day was looming three days into the future until Glorfindel happened to mention it in the ‘I suppose you’re all organised’ way of casual conversations. It wasn’t that Glorfindel particularly approved of them being together either, but he knew Erestor well enough to have asked his begetting date – which had never occurred to Elrond – and naturally assumed Elrond had ‘plans’. Which he didn’t. Yet. However, there was one person he knew, besides Erestor, who was very good at last minute planning.

“Sire, if you had to plan a last minute begetting day surprise for someone, what would it be?”

Gil-galad moved parchment out of the way, looking for something in the mess on his desk. He glanced up quizzically, pushing unruly dark hair behind his ears. “Forget about Erestor’s begetting day, did you? Not very smart.”

Elrond stared at him. “How did you know it was… I mean, why would you know that?”

The King’s eyebrows shot jerkily up and back down. “I make it my business to know such things about the people who work for me. It’s pretty poor that I can get it right, and yet you only sleep with one person – far as I know – and still haven’t a clue.”

Elrond bit back the sigh which would have earned him a lecture. “Yes, I’m at fault, I know.” It was always good to own up to a minor flaw. People liked it and let the matter slide as long as nothing had been broken. “Anyhow, allowing for me being an idiot, can you suggest something?”

“I’m not wracking my brains just so you can get laid,” Gil-galad growled. “You need to work that out yourself. How would I know what he likes?” He thought about it. “Decent piece of jewellery? He’d look good in moonstones. What?” He glared at Elrond. “I’m not blind, damn it.”

 _‘Long as looking is all you do,’_ Elrond thought. Aloud he said, “No, of course not. He’s very nice looking. But we haven’t known each other long enough for him to be comfortable with good jewellery. Glori already shot that down in flames.”

“Was about to suggest you ask him,” Gil-galad said. “He’s good at things like this.”

“He said a nice dinner and a book.”

They looked at each other and through some trick of the light the almost nonexistent family resemblance became suddenly clear. “Right. Well, in that case – you seem to be on your own.”

\-----

Erestor had no problem with people singling him out and being pleasant – it was a measure of how much impact he had made since he arrived at the palace that there was any fuss at all about his begetting day - but every single task he turned his hand to that day seemed cursed the moment it got his attention. An endless flow of good wishes, flowers, and even a few gifts, (luckily none of them of the type that had to be returned with thanks and a graceful speech) also meant constant interruptions. Even Gil-galad wished him when they passed somewhere between Cirithon’s office and the royal workroom. Fortunately, there had been no gift involved there. 

Close to the end of the working day he gave himself a little time off as a reward and made his escape before anyone could insist on carrying him off to drink at the Owl, headache and all. He made it out of the administrative section of the palace without mishap, right across to the wing housing his cramped but cosy room – and walked straight into Elrond. He was dressed in garnet red, which didn’t help Erestor’s headache, had tried with middling success to style his hair with a few of the fashionable South coast knots and whorls, and looked rather put out by something.

“You have to come with me,” he said by way of greeting.

Erestor raised an eyebrow. “I do? No, I don’t. I just finished work and where I have to go is home to change out of this thing and breathe.” ‘This thing’ was the casual grey tunic and leggings he had taken to wearing for work – comfortable and anonymous. For someone with Erestor’s looks, anonymity was difficult, but he used to be good at blending into the background when he needed and was trying not to lose the knack.

Elrond shook his head in an irritated kind of way. “You look fine in that. You need to come with me before anything else goes wrong.”

“I may not be the right person then. Everything I’ve touched all day has been a disaster.” He tried not to sound as though he was whining. Elrond had almost as little patience for that as he did himself.

Elrond put a hand on his arm and tugged, not hard but insistently. “So it’ll go wrong again and this time it’ll be your fault so that’s all right. Come on. You can go home later.”

Erestor considered the barely concealed hint of uncertainty behind the high handedness, and the hair, which seemed to belong with a more formal outfit, and shrugged. “As long as there’s food at some stage, all right. I’ll come.”

“Oh yes, there’s food,” Elrond said a little too quickly. “At least I hope there is. Come. This way.”

There had been no begetting day wishes, though he doubted Elrond even knew. He had said nothing, not wanting to look as though he was angling for a present. There was also no dog. Erestor’s curiosity, seldom dormant for long, finally woke and gave him a prod. “Lead on,” he said. “My day’s been full of surprises. One more to round it off seems right.”

Elrond led the way back through the palace, out the main entrance, and across the grounds to the section of garden reserved for the private wing. After a few minutes Erestor decided they were going to Elrond’s apartment and followed tamely, his mind mostly taken up with how he would tackle the mess he had made of a vital encryption first thing tomorrow morning before Cirithon noticed. It was made easier because Elrond for once wasn’t talkative. 

\-----

The sun had already gone behind the mountain and the garden, deliberately a little overgrown and peaceful, was evening-fragrant. Birds made nesting calls and the sea talked away in the background.

“You seem to have been decorating,” Erestor said, indicating the silky gold structure that graced the grass in front of Elrond’s patio. 

Elrond drew in a deep breath. “It’s a tent,” he said. “No, actually a pavilion.”

“All right.” There hardly seemed much else to say to that, but being Erestor, he found one more word. “Why?”

“Why?” Elrond hesitated then kept walking.

“Yes, why. Why do you have a pavilion almost on your patio?” Some rosemary needles had attached themselves to his sleeve and Elrond watched as he started picking them off, one by one.

“That would be because it isn’t down by the lake,” he explained. “Where it was meant to be.”

“But?” Amber eyes regarded him seriously. “Did someone object?”

“Oh no,” Elrond said with a touch of the bitterness he had felt towards fate earlier. “It would have been fine. Only they’re going to plant a mass of tulips or something under the trees and to prepare the soil, they just dug in bags and bags of cow dung.”

“Ah,” said Erestor, with a hint of dimple. “No, not the place for a pavilion. Why do you need a pavilion though? Am I missing something?”

The words fell out and didn’t seem to want to stop. “First I was going to try outside the library but it’s windy and not private. Then I thought down on the beach but they’re doing manoeuvres of some kind this evening, which Glori mentioned when I asked if he could take Laslech tonight – she’s too boisterous. Then it was the lake. And then it was too late for another idea, so it’s here.” 

Erestor gave him a look that suggested he hadn’t a clue what Elrond was talking about but was prepared to give it a little more time before going home in disgust. He was also unfailingly practical. “The beach would have been worse than in front of the library, surely? For wind? Anyhow, what do we do with it now we’re here?” 

“We go in,” Elrond said. It had seemed a brilliant idea when he came up with it, but his confidence had been steadily drained over the course of the afternoon and was holding on now by a thread. “I couldn’t find all the pegs, but I anchored the sides with a few bricks and stuff and as long as we’re careful…” He stood aside for Erestor to go into the silken structure first. “Just don’t knock the walls or anything and it’ll be fine.”

The inside of the pavilion had a mass of cushions arranged on a colourful carpet and a low table upon which were little plates and pots of delicacies, plus a wine jug and two rather nice cups Elrond had borrowed from one of the reception rooms. An unlit lantern hung from a delicate iron stand in the corner. Erestor looked around and then turned curious eyes up to him. “What in Arda…?”

Elrond wished he didn’t always look so – touchable. It made explaining things calmly in small words harder, he had an urge to rush through it to the kiss at the end. “It’s your begetting day dinner,” he explained. “That’s the first course, then they’re bringing a spiced lamb stew when it starts to get dark…that’s why I didn’t want you to go and change first, it took longer than I thought.”

“This is for my begetting day?” Erestor looked around again and then the smile started in his eyes and slowly spread to perfect lips. “You went to all this trouble for me?”

“I wanted it to be special.” Elrond felt himself starting to breathe again. It was going to be all right and Erestor wasn’t laughing, even inside – he could always tell when people did that. “Someone suggested dinner and a book when I was looking for ideas, but then I thought well I’d probably get the wrong book, but I know what you like to eat.”

Erestor burst into laughter and came to wrap his arms round Elrond’s waist and press his cheek to his shoulder. Smooth black hair brushed his face and made him shiver. “This is such a wonderful idea, and it looks beautiful. And cosy too – all those cushions.”

“I know you like cushions,” Elrond said. Whenever he thought of Erestor’s room, his first image was of cushions piled on the bed and chairs. The second image was usually of Erestor amongst the cushions on the bed… He touched Erestor’s cheek, making him look up. He had the words all ready, but there was no chance to say them because right at that moment a mini cyclone hit the pavilion and flung itself on him and Erestor. 

“Laslech, what in the Pit are you doing here, you’re meant to be with Glori,” he yelled, letting go of Erestor and pushing the delighted dog down.

“Look out, she’s got the rope round her f ….”

A corner of the pavilion shook and then began collapsing inward and the side followed, pulling free of Elrond’s row of carefully placed bricks. Silk and poles came tumbling down over them, the various noises punctuated by Laslech’s excited barks. Eventually it all settled, including the dog. 

Elrond struggled to free himself, feeling like a swimmer who had been overwhelmed by a giant wave. Somewhere close by he could hear Erestor swearing under his breath. Finally, the fabric was pulled back from his face and he could gulp in fresh hair. Blinking he looked around. Erestor sat facing him, gold silk draped over his head like a shroud. He was shaking. Elrond’s heart almost stopped, then he realised Erestor was actually laughing. “As I was about to say, happy begetting day,” he said, starting to laugh too. “You were right. Disaster.”

Erestor’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes sparkled with tears of mirth. “I warned you, never say I didn’t. And it was a lovely idea. Just… Your mad dog.”

It was then that Elrond realised something was missing. Laslech was silent. He looked around the billowed silk of the ruined pavilion. “Where is she? Why is she so quiet?”

Erestor shook back his hair and gestured in the direction of the now-hidden table. “Oh, she’s fine. I can hear her enjoying my begetting day dinner from here.”

Elrond pushed past him and began fighting his way under the fabric in search of his dog. “Laslech, come out here. Right now. You can’t eat that stuff. It’s bad for dogs.”

Erestor crawled free onto clear grass and began tidying his hair and clothing. “You’re a little late with that,” Elrond heard him say. “I think we might have the next course indoors though. Somewhere safe and not on dog level. We’ll see what we can do with the cushions afterwards. I’m sure there’s all kinds of possibilities.”


End file.
